The Eagle and the Rose (16 page)

In Colins mind he had decided that if there was such a possibility as survival after death, he would get his proof in the way he wanted it.

However, it didn't work out at all in the way he hoped or thought it would. In fact, I don't think it had even occurred to him that the proof he sought might just come in another way.

With no trouble at all and with no hesitation, my visitor came through from spirit. A rather stunning lady in appearance, she wore a long gray dress and a straw boater with a black headband perched on her head, and in her hand she held a small book.

In a clear voice she spoke to me: “My name is Martha, and I am related to Colin mother.

Everything I saw and heard was so distinct, and confidently I relayed this information to Colin.

Imagine, then, my surprise when he said in a voice that portrayed his disbelief, “I know no such person as the one you have described. In fact,” he continued, “I know with absolute certainty that there has never been anyone in our family by the name of Martha. And definitely no one wearing a long gray dress and a staw boater"

I looked back to Martha, who, hearing what this young man had said, just smiled a serenely knowing smile, one that spoke of patience.

Tell him again,” she said, “and don't worry if he doesn't understand you, he'll learn.

I told him again, but again Colin was adamant that if there had ever been such a person in his family, he would have known about her.

He was obviously deeply disappointed at the appearance of Martha, as he had made up his mind that if anyone should make contact from the next world, it would be his girlfriend.

Colin was now firmly convinced that I was a fake, so it was difficult trying to explain to him that we don't always know many of the people who come through from spirit to talk to us. Gradually, however, his disappointment and disbelief turned to amazement as I began relaying messages from Martha concerning Colins family.

Martha was particularly explicit about his mother and his mother's family, giving such startling evidence about them that it was clear, even to Colin, that she knew the family very well.

At one point we discussed Colin's job, and chuckling, Martha said, “Tell him how smart I think he looks in his uniform,” and before I had a chance to repeat what she had said, Martha showed me a picture of Colin wearing a naval jacket and—dare I say it?—a funny hat.

Poor Colin. When I told him all of this, he was amazed. Everything that Martha had said he understood. The information he had been given was so accurate that he could not deny the evidence of his own ears.

So how did it work? How could I, a stranger, tell him not only about himself, but about the people around him—and with such accuracy?

These were questions that he now had to ask.

Finally the sitting was over. Colin switched off the tape recorder and only then told me, and nearly in tears, how the visit to me was for the sole purpose of getting in touch with his girlfriend.

All I could say to him was that it was not up to me as a medium to decide who the communicators would be, but I tried to assure him that what he had been given must be what he needed.

He was a little angry at that and said quite firmly that he knew better than I that his need to talk to his girlfriend was much greater than his need to talk to a woman he had never even heard of—a woman, in fact, whom he doubted had ever even existed.

I, too, was upset when Colin left, feeling his hurt and disappointment. “Had I missed something, some small but important detail?” I asked Grey Eagle. He assured me that I had not and that everything would work out well, but still I was unhappy. I should have had more faith.

A few hours after Colin left the phone rang, and his voice came on the line.

Rosemary, I must see you. Its desperately important.

After leaving me, Colin had gone straight to his parents’ house, and they had all listened as he played the tape recording of his session with me.

His mother, shaking with excitement, had raced up the stairs and a short while later returned, carrying a very old photograph album.

Colin watched, his heart thumping wildly, as his mother thumbed through the pages. Then, with a look of triumph on her face, she pointed to one particular photograph. Colin hardly dared to look. There, smiling up at him from this dusty old photograph, was a lady, short and plump, wearing a long gray dress and a straw boater on her head with … yes … a black band around it!

Colin's mother, with tears in her eyes, looked at her son, and in a voice full of emotion, she said, “That lady is my grandmother. She died, Colin, before you were born, and her name … her name is Martha!

Had Colin, at that time, been given evidence of his girlfriend's passing and her subsequent survival, I am sure that he would initially have been overjoyed.

But because he was such a doubting Thomas, he may eventually have come to the conclusion that the evidence he had been given was perhaps nothing more than mind reading.

His great-grandmother Martha had come through unexpectedly, determined to prove, and in a way that would be impossible to dispute, that there really is such a thing as life after life.

Elizabeth

H
aving read Colin's story, you might assume that all those in the spirit world who wish to make contact through a medium find it as easy as Martha, Colin's great-grandmother, did. And for many it is that way. But there are those who struggle for one reason or another, as this next story will show.

It was 1982.I was on my own and struggling to survive. I had been left with no money, enormous debts totaling thousands of pounds, and a house I couldn't afford to run. Every penny I could earn counted, as it literally meant, for Samantha and me, the difference between eating and not eating.

Cash was something I needed desperately at this time, and although it would be nice to think that spiritual wealth is the only important thing in life, unfortunately this just isn't so.

We live in a material world, in which we all have to earn money, one way or another, to pay our bills, to feed and clothe us and our families.

Mick knew this, and so he arranged for a group of people to meet, ten in all, for what he called a “clairvoyant party.

He didn't tell me about it until all the arrangements had been made, and at first I was angry and refused to do it. But when he mentioned that I would be paid a small fee … well, I was sunk. I needed the money.

Mick had known what a desperate state my finances were in, and this was his way of putting a little cash in my pocket.

The “party” was held one evening in the home of Elizabeth. I was nervous and on edge. I didn't like the idea of working this way, able to give only fifteen minutes of my time to each person.

Mick had come with me and suggested that we all join together in prayer before I began. We joined hands, and as Mick prayed everyone bowed heads—well, everyone but me, that is. I took the opportunity to study my potential clients.

But as I watched, I had a vision: garland upon garland of tiny rosebuds began to appear all around the room, strung across the walls in long loops. They decorated the room in the most beautiful way, and they were a gorgeous shade of pink.

It was by no means the first time that Grey Eagle had given me strength and encouragement in this way. In fact, I remember one time I was very unhappy about a patient of mine, Margery, who had died of cancer. I could not help wishing that I had done more for her, although what more I could have done I did not know. As I was pondering on this one day, I became aware of a bright light shining out to the left of me, and as I looked toward it I saw the prettiest sight: masses of pansies, such lovely flowers, the markings on the petals looking so much like faces. They all seemed to be smiling at me as they waved about in the breeze. As soon as I saw them I was reassured and smiled, knowing instantly that this vision was given to me by my guide so that I would know Margery was safe and happy, for you see, pansies were her favorite flower.

So it was, as in a vision, I saw those tiny pink rosebuds in such a spectacle of color that I felt a reassurance and immediately became less nervous. What a lovely way Grey Eagle had chosen to let me know that he was with me! It never occurred to me that there might be another reason for the gift of flowers.

Despite my apprehension and misgivings about the evening, everything went well. I sat in the dining room, and one by one the ladies came to me for their sittings. For every one of them, evidence of survival after death was overwhelming.

It is always a pleasure for me to make communication links such as these. Over and over again I listen to the evidence from those in the spirit world, not only of their survival after death, but of their constant and continuing interest in the people they have left behind. Help and advice is given on so many subjects, even the most trivial—advice that is always valuable, whether it has to do with business, health, children, education, or affairs of the heart; advice made even more precious because it comes from those in the spirit world, who see so much more clearly than we, who are so easily blinded by emotions.

It is also possible for those in the spirit world to see farther ahead than we can, and so they are able to give help and advice, concerning the future. And part of my pleasure comes from being able to help set people on the right track, of watching as enlightenment dawns with the knowledge that not one of us is alone and without aid of one kind or another. Even when the outlook for the future is not so good, those in the spirit world are able to give good and sound advice that will often ease a situation, giving strength and hope that the bad times will not last forever.

The last of my sittings that evening was with the hostess, Elizabeth. I had sensed how nervous she was immediately, so without delay I began.

Already I had begun to listen to Grey Eagle, and, as always, he told me all of the things about her that I needed to know. As with all of my sittings, my first communication is with Grey Eagle, but I had still not looked at her as I said, “Now then, what's all this nonsense about rats?” And as I sat down in front of her, I looked into the most startled pair of blue eyes I had ever seen.

Continuing, I repeated, “Rats, you have been having dreadful nightmares about rats, haven't you?

Speechless, she nodded, and huge tears bubbled up in her eyes and ran down her face.

I reached out and gently patted her hand. “Well, shall we see if we can help you?”

Nodding again, she whispered, “But how do you know, how could you possibly know about my dreams?”

“A medium is someone who quite simply is able to talk to the dead,” I explained. “And I know about your dreams because my spirit guide, Grey Eagle, has been talking to me about you since you first walked into the room.” I smiled a reassurance and then, “Now, shall we continue and try to see if we can find out what this is about?” And of course we did just that—and we addressed her phobia.

A few days later I heard from Elizabeth again, and we
arranged
a time for her to see me.

“I'd like a proper sitting,” she said. “Last time your guide spoke to me. Now I would like to get in touch with my mother. I really need to know if she is all right and, of
course
, whether or not she really survived death.”

“There are no guarantees that I can make contact with your mother, or that she will want to speak to me,” I said. “I can only guarantee that I will try. The rest is up to her.”

This agreed, Elizabeth came for her first “proper” consultation, but although I did have several communicators, I didn't manage to link at all with Elizabeth's mother.

Disappointed, but determined to try again, Elizabeth made another booking.

Three sittings later, four attempts and four disappointments, and still I could not seem to form a link with the one person Elizabeth felt she needed to hear from.

“It's no good,” I sighed, after the fourth time, not liking to admit defeat myself, “I'm afraid I just cannot seem to find the right wavelength. Perhaps it would be better if you found another medium. Your mother might find it easier to communicate through someone else.”

In tears, she shook her head and tried to reassure me that it didn't matter. I suppose she was trying to convince herself as well.

I made us both a cup of tea, and we sat in silence for a while. Then, in an effort to cheer her up, I said, “Come on, it's not the end of the world, you know. How's Katie? Tell me how she's getting on.” Katie was Elizabeth's handicapped daughter.

Immediately her face brightened and she began chattering away, telling me that her daughter had just been found a place at a special school and how well she was doing.

Nodding and sipping my tea, I listened as my friend chattered on. Then suddenly I became aware of another lady also nodding and smiling as she listened to Elizabeth, standing quietly by her chair.

Not only did I see her clearly, I also heard her quite plainly as she turned her attention to me. “Hello,” she said, “my name is Doris Rose. I'm Elizabeth's mother. I've been trying to get through to you for ages.”

Without thinking, and cutting straight across what Elizabeth was now saying, I repeated what I had just heard.

The cup of tea that Elizabeth had been holding went sailing into the air, and a look of joy spread over her face. Bobbing her head up and down, she gasped, “It is, it is, that's my mother's name! Rose is my maiden name, Elizabeth Rose, and my mother is Doris Rose.”

Doris Rose told us many things that day and was able to provide her daughter with the much needed evidence of her survival after death. She told of her illness, her cancer, and her struggle to fight it, how she thought she had succeeded until the day she became ill again and died shortly after. Describing that moment of death, Doris explained to me that her daughter had been sitting by her bed, holding her hand, and that the last thing Elizabeth did for her while she was alive was to wipe her face and dry her tears.

When I asked her why it had taken so long, so many attempts on my part, to get through to her, she explained that she had been too nervous.